


Up All Night to get Lucky

by K_R_Closson



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Adventures in Pet-sitting, M/M, Steve and Bucky bicker like an old married couple, Who thinks Steve Rogers is responsible?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 14:13:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7848202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_R_Closson/pseuds/K_R_Closson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint's going away on a mission and needs someone to watch his dog. Steve happened to be nearby and now he and Bucky are in charge of Lucky. It'll be a miracle if the dog and their relationship makes it through the week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Up All Night to get Lucky

All artwork done by the lovely [Jihaitea](http://jhaitea.tumblr.com/). She made three wonderful (and adorable) pieces for the story.

 

“Do I want to know?” Bucky asks, looking at the leash in Steve’s hand. “Please tell me you didn’t get that used.”

Steve, having just come from a conversation with Clint that’s left him a little off balance - who gives someone a dog leash and then  _ walks away _ \- doesn’t have the ability to have another weird talk. Especially with Bucky, who delights in getting Steve turned around in circles.

“What?” Steve settles for asking.

Bucky smirks, something that doesn’t bode well for Steve and his sanity. “Tell me the truth, if I look on your internet history, will there be porn?”

“What?” Steve asks again - well, squeaks might be a better word, because they’re in the SHIELD lobby, and Bucky’s talking about  _ porn _ .

Bucky nods towards the leash.

“What! No! It’s not a sex thing!”

Steve says that part a little too loud, because several agents turn to look at him. Steve blushes and glares at Bucky.

“I hate you,” Steve mumbles.

“Aw, babe, you say the sweetest things,” Bucky says, slinging an arm around Steve’s shoulder. “Whose dog are we watching?”

“I should strangle you with this,” Steve says, holding up the frayed leash for effect.

“Or you could tell me how you got it in the first place. I can’t imagine a baby agent having the balls to ask Captain America to watch his dog. Was it a dare? Was it a hazing thing?”

A couple months ago there  _ was _ a hazing thing that led to Steve getting over a dozen emails with videos of various SHIELD trainees in USO outfits. Supposedly, Steve was supposed to rate them from best to worst, but after watching Trainee Marchand pull his hamstring trying to do a high kick, Steve just forwarded them all to Coulson with the short message:  _ your problem _ .

At least it was better than the time a couple agents decided to recreate some of the more...inaccurate Captain America comics. For some reason the agent playing Bucky was in tights that showed way too much and spent the whole time following Steve around saying, “Gee whiz, Cap, I can’t wait until I’m big and strong like you”. 

Bucky, of course, found it hilarious (better than offensive, Steve supposes) and all it takes is Bucky turning to Steve with wide eyes and saying “Gee whiz” to get them both rolling on the floor laughing.

When Steve had gone on that mission with Natasha last year, to investigate the rumors that HYDRA was trying to regain a foothold in the world, he never thought he’d find Bucky. But apparently if Steve could survive a plane crash and if HYDRA could survive losing its Supreme Leader or whatever the hell Schmidt called himself then Bucky could survive a plummet from a train.

And so Steve, Bucky, and Natasha took out HYRDA’s main operations and then they came back to the States, and Steve and Bucky got an apartment in Brooklyn, and it’s almost like it was before except Bucky’s got a metal arm and killed a bunch of people and Steve tried to nose dive into the Arctic and then woke up and killed a bunch of people, and no, it’s not really at all like it was before except that Steve and Bucky are back together, and it’s them against the world.

And today, it’s them and a dog against the world.

Specifically, Clint’s dog.

“Not a hazing thing,” Steve says. He wishes it was because then he’d dump the whole problem on Coulson. “I’ll tell you about it when we get home.”

“Frozen lemonade first,” Bucky says, “Because it was a long hot walk to pick you up from work, and you aren’t going to have dinner on the table for me when we get back.”

Steve punches Bucky’s arm, and Bucky - the asshole - is walking on Steve’s right so Steve punches the metal arm. Steve refuses to wince or shake his hand out, pretends instead that he  _ meant _ to hit unforgiving metal.

“My sensors tell me that was a weak hit,” Bucky says. “I have to agree, because I didn’t feel a damn thing. Getting weak in your old age?”

“You’re buying us both lemonade,” Steve says.

Bucky grins and gets Steve a strawberry lemonade, because he knows Steve hates them, because they put actual bits of strawberry in the lemonade and they always get stuck in the straw. Steve wins that fight, though, because he just swipes Bucky’s regular lemonade and slurps it the whole way home.

Or maybe he doesn’t win, because Bucky looks just as happy eating the strawberry lemonade (really, it’s a slushie) with a spoon as they stroll through the streets.

“So,” Bucky says when they get home. “What’s with the leash?”

Home is a two bedroom apartment (they only use one) with a single bathroom and a kitchen-living room hybrid that means they can heckle each other from the couch while the other makes dinner. It also means, that on an adventurous day, they put a cooking show on and try to cook along with the instructions. 

Those days often end with all the windows open and Steve fanning the smoke alarm so it doesn’t go off and get them glares from their neighbors. Again.

“Clint’s going on a mission, and he needs someone to watch his dog,” Steve says.

Bucky doesn’t look impressed. “Doesn’t he have that mini-me for a reason?”

“ _ Kate Bishop _ ,” Steve says with a pointed look, “is going with him. It’s some sort of mentor thing or training thing, I don’t know. I didn’t pay a whole lot of attention.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “I don’t know how you get the good guy, good soldier rep.”

Steve shrugs. “Anyways, since Clint and Kate are going to be gone, he panicked and I happened to be in the hallway and I am, I quote,  _ responsible and shit _ , so now we’re dog sitting.”

Bucky cracks up laughing at that. “ _ Responsible _ ? You? Barton does know he just gave custody of his dog to the guy who jumps out of planes without parachutes for fun, right?”

“Necessity,” Steve says primly, “I jump without a ‘chute for necessity. I sled on the shield for fun.”

“That was a good time,” Bucky says.

It had been the first snow after they got Bucky back, and  _ Steve  _ was going to punch Tony the next time he made a Winter Soldier joke, let alone what Bucky was going to do, so Steve found them a cabin in the middle of nowhere and off they went.

Steve had planned on them sleeping and drinking hot chocolate for seven days straight, but Bucky thought that was boring. They had four snowball fights and created and demolished a Snowvengers family before Steve saw the hill and his shield and thought  _ why the hell not _ .

It’s one of those things he wants to tell people about, because he can picture the horrified look on Coulson’s face - you used the shield for what? - and the grudging respect on Tony’s - you aren’t as old and boring as I thought you were - but he keeps it to himself, one of those things meant for him and Bucky and no one else.

Steve snaps out of the memory when a piece of crumpled paper hits him in the head.

“Stop being sappy,” Bucky says from the couch.

“But you’re my Bucky bear,” Steve pouts, which turns into laughter the moment Bucky throws himself off the couch to tackle Steve to the ground.

Steve’s spent his entire life goading Bucky which means he knows what’ll set him off and what won’t which is why he’s no where near their little table when he revs Bucky up. He only made that mistake once, and there’s nothing to kill the mood like having to pick splinters out of someone’s back because you shattered a table.

Also, they had to go shopping for a new table.

Steve wanted to do it online.

Bucky wanted to go to a store so they could harass the store associates.

They got kicked out of the store and ended up having to do it online, because Bucky kept loudly proclaiming that they should ‘test’ the tables for durability.

Anyways, Steve’s not near the table now which means there’s just the thud of two bodies hitting the ground, and they’ll get scolded by their neighbors later, but Steve doesn’t care, because he’s wrestling with Bucky, because Bucky’s here to wrestle with, and they’re both evenly matched now so there’s no holding back.

Doesn’t mean Bucky doesn’t try and cheat still by tickling Steve, the way he would when Steve was little and rough housing could easily lead to broken bones if they weren’t careful.

Steve, for his part, just grabs a handful of Bucky’s hair, because if he’s going to grow it out long then of course Steve’s going to pull it when they fight.

“Dirty,” Bucky hisses, head yanking back with the strength of Steve’s grip.

“Just like you taught me,” Steve says.

And - some days they actually want to wrestle, get out some aggression or work through a fight they’re having, but today isn’t one of those days. Today, Steve sees the long line of Bucky’s throat, the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, and Steve leans in to kiss the stretch of skin.

“Mm,” Bucky says, arching into the touch. “Taught you this too.”

“Sure about that?” Steve asks. “Cause I seem to recall -”

Bucky surges up and kisses him before Steve can finish talking. This, Steve remembers too. Bucky used to joke it was the only surefire way to shut him up. Steve would come home from rallies sometimes, fired up about equal pay for women or labor rights, and babble at Bucky just so Bucky would kiss him.

Probably, there were easier ways to get kissed, but Steve Rogers isn’t known for doing things the easy way.

Especially since there’s nothing better than Bucky’s little irritated growl before he grabs Steve’s face between his hands and plants one on Steve’s lips.

This is pretty good too, and Steve’s wondering if he should suggest they move to the bedroom when their downstairs neighbor pounds on the ceiling.

Bucky pounds back; which, not helpful, and Steve’s a little concerned if they keep this up then Bucky’s going to put his fist through their floor.

“Alright,” Steve says, releasing his hold on Bucky’s hair, “That’s our hint to cool down.”

“Really?” Bucky says, but when Steve rolls off of him, he doesn’t do anything except make sure Steve doesn’t get so far away that they aren’t touching anymore. “What happened to Mr. I Never Back Down From a Challenge? ‘Cause that sounds an awful like a challenge to me.”

Steve points to the green leash sitting on the kitchen table. “Didn’t you hear? I’m  _ responsible _ now.”

“Boring,” Bucky says but he does push himself up off the floor. “We really watching this dog?”

“Lucky,” Steve says. “He has a name.”

Bucky groans. “That’s a yes.”

“He’s a good dog,” Steve defends.

“You don’t even know him. Also, it’s Barton’s dog. It’s going to be a terror.”

“ _ He _ .”

“Notice you aren’t disagreeing with the terror part.”

Steve shrugs.

“Well, you have fun with that,” Bucky says. “I’m not coming with you.”

“Why not?” Steve asks, getting to his feet. “It’s a week.”

“A week in someone else’s apartment, taking care of someone else’s shit. No thanks.”

“Fine,” Steve says. “See you in a week.”

“Wait what?” Bucky asks, scrambling after Steve as Steve goes into their bedroom.

Steve ignores him and starts packing his duffel.

“Woah, woah,” Bucky says, making a grab for Steve’s t-shirts. Steve lets him get them and just takes out an identical stack of white cotton shirts and puts them in his bag.

“You’re really gonna leave me?” Bucky says.

“I have  _ responsibilities _ ,” Steve says, and he knows he’s being petty, Bucky knows it too because he rolls his eyes, “I’m not sure I’ll make it back to our apartment before Clint comes back.”

“Ugh. Fine.” Bucky stomps over to his closet to grab his own duffel bag.

Their downstairs neighbor pounds on the ceiling again.

“Fuck you!” Bucky shouts at the floor.

Steve takes a deep breath. They’re going to be gone for a week, and Mr. Uptight down there will have a week without them. No need to apologize or anything. 

Bucky stomps on the floor again a few times for good measure.

“Alright,” Steve says, “I think he gets the message. Finish packing your bag.”

He expects a smartass comment or two but Bucky just heads to the bathroom and comes back with both their shaving kits and their toothbrushes.

“Thanks,” Steve says.

“I can’t believe we’re going to go watch a  _ dog _ ,” Bucky says. “What qualifications do we have for keeping shit alive?”

“Well, we’re both alive,” Steve says, “and as Tony tells me at least twice a week, we’re pretty fucking old.”

“You’re alive because of the serum,” Bucky says, “and because I spent the first twenty years of your life dragging you from the brink of death.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, and he leans in to touch his forehead to Bucky’s, because he can’t make light of the times Bucky’s gotten him out of fights he wasn’t going to win or the times Bucky sat at Steve’s bed while he was sick. “Guess it’s good you’re coming with me, then. You’re much better at taking care of things than I am.”

“You did not just compare yourself to a dog,” Bucky says. 

“Give it a little attention and it’ll love you forever,” Steve says.

He’s not all that surprised when Bucky tackles him to the ground, nothing playful or silly about the way he gets Steve pinned, metal hand hard and unforgiving around Steve’s throat.

“You’re not a fucking dog,” Bucky says.

There’s probably something wrong with Steve provoking Bucky just to get the weight of Bucky on him, to get the reassurances that Bucky isn’t going anywhere, that Bucky likes him and wants him even after everything they’ve gone through.

There are reasons Steve doesn’t tell his SHIELD mandated therapist much of anything.

And one of them is because he relaxes when Bucky’s hand squeezes, not putting any pressure on Steve’s throat, not really, just reminding Steve that Bucky is there, Bucky’s in charge. 

“You gonna grab me by the back of the neck next time?” Steve asks, laughing. “Shake me around a bit?”

“I’m gonna shake you around all right,” Bucky grumbles. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a pain in the ass?”

Steve waggles his eyebrows. “Only -”

Bucky kisses him again.

They don’t end up leaving for Clint’s apartment for another couple hours.

~*~

“Clint said to watch out for people in tracksuits,” Steve says as they get to the apartment building.

It’s big and brick and reminds Steve of the apartment they lived in before the war. Most of the windows have air conditioners sticking out which is different but the way the brick’s fading and crumbled in some places is definitely familiar. 

“What’s a tracksuit?” Bucky asks.

Steve shrugs. “No clue. Said we’d recognize the guys as no good if we see them lurking.”

“Lurking is a good sign that someone’s not any good,” Bucky says. He holds the door open for Steve and grins because Steve hates it when he does that.

“I’m not helpless,” Steve says, making sure to knock Bucky’s shoulder as he goes through the door. “And  _ you _ lurk.”

“That was part of the point,” Bucky says.

It’s not worth getting in a fight with Bucky about this in Clint’s apartment building so Steve does the mature thing and races Bucky up the stairs.

“Cheater!” Bucky calls after him, just a couple steps behind, but it’s enough, and Steve gets to Clint’s door first, but he doesn’t get to hold it open for Bucky because the handle doesn’t turn.

“It’s locked?” Steve asks. He rattles the door handle again, but it doesn’t budge.

Lucky barks from the other side and nudges the door like he knows there are people here to see him, and doesn’t understand why they’re not coming in to love him right this second.

“You think Barton trained his dog to unlock doors?” Bucky asks.

After a moment of waiting to see if the lock is going to spring open they decide, no, Clint hasn’t trained Lucky to unlock doors. 

Bucky sighs and pulls his lockpicking kit out of his duffel bag.

“Why did you bring that?” Steve asks.

“Shut up, it’s useful.”

Bucky’s about to start fiddling with the lock when one of the neighbors comes out of her apartment. She’s got a baby on her hip, and a toddler peeking around her legs, and Bucky quickly straightens up, slips his lockpicks into his sleeve and angles himself so the metal hand isn’t visible.

Steve adopts his best ‘aw shucks’ expression and is about to explain the situation when the woman sighs.

“Typical Clint,” she mutters and goes back into her apartment. She returns with a key and comes over to unlock the door for them. “You the dog sitters?”

“We’re keeping an eye on Lucky,” Steve says before Bucky says something undiplomatic in front of the babies. The baby baby gurgles and drools all over his fist. Steve wants to retreat, but he’s afraid Bucky’ll laugh at him.

“You watch kids too?” the woman asks.

Bucky stumbles back so fast he almost trips and lands on his ass. The only reason Steve doesn’t laugh is because he’s sure he’s got a similiar look of horror on his face. The last time he was near little kids it was on his USO tour, and that was a nightmare he never wants to repeat. 

Babies are slimy and wriggly, and they never smile for the cameras.

“I’ll take that as a no.” The woman looks between them, amused. “Oh well. I’m Simone. I’m right across the hall if you have any trouble. I’d tell you not to break anything, but I doubt Clint would notice.” She seems to notice their bags for the first time. “You apartment sitting too?”

“We’re watching the dog,” Bucky says. “That’s it.”

“But if there’s trouble let us know and we’ll take care of it,” Steve says with a sharp look at Bucky. 

“People trouble,” Bucky clarifies, getting back on his feet. “We don’t do diapers or leaky sinks.”

“Yep,” Simone says. “Definitely friends of Clint’s. I’m sure I’m going to regret this, but do you know how to take care of a dog?”

“Easy,” Bucky says, bristling, the way he does any time someone questions his qualifications for a task. “Feed it, walk it, make sure it pisses on a bush instead of a fire hydrant.”

“And pet it,” Steve adds, flushing when Bucky looks over at him. “What? Love is important.”

“Love is important?” Bucky echoes. “You fuc -” he glances at the kids, “You’re a parody of yourself.”

“Your face is a parody,” Steve snaps. He notices Simone inching backwards. “I’m sorry. It was nice to meet you, Simone. I’m Steve and this is Bucky.”

Simone looks completely unimpressed with them. “Good luck with the dog.”

Steve sighs and heads into Clint’s apartment. “She thinks we’re going to kill Lucky. I blame you.”

“Me?” Bucky asks.

“Yes,  _ you _ . You  _ fell over _ at the sight of a baby.”

“ _ You  _ looked like you were going to puke,” Bucky says. He drops his duffel bag on the kitchen table.

Lucky trots up to them, sniffing at their pants and licking their hands when they’re in range. Steve, much more comfortable with a dog than a baby, kneels down to pet him.

“Hey, buddy,” Steve says, scratching between Lucky’s ears. “You excited to see us?”

“Oh no,” Bucky says. “You start baby talking the dog, and I’m leaving. I don’t care if it means no sex for a week.”

Steve covers Lucky’s ears. “Don’t talk that way in front of him!”

“What did I ever do to deserve this?” Bucky asks. 

He leaves Steve to the dog and starts going through cupboards.

“Buck!” Steve hisses. 

“What? We’re staying here for a week, we’re going to do more than go through his cabinets.” Bucky continues his perusal, opening the small pantry and then the fridge. “Well, shit,” Bucky says. “This explains why he thinks  _ we’re _ good people to leave a dog with.”

“Huh?” Steve asks, leaving Lucky to join Bucky in front of the fridge. “Oh.”

Bucky laughs. “Yeah,  _ oh _ .”

The fridge is - sparse seems like too kind a word. There’s a half empty bottle of ketchup, a carton of eggs with a single egg, a carton of milk Steve bets is near gone, and an extra large pizza box that upon further investigation has three pizza crusts left in it and nothing else. 

“Pantry isn’t any better,” Bucky says. “We’re gonna have to go shopping.”

Steve goes to look in the pantry even though he believes Bucky. There’s a box of potato flakes - apparently they turn into mashed potatoes if you add milk? - with about a third of its contents left, a box of spaghetti with only eight sticks of spaghetti in there and -

“Wow,” Steve says.

Bucky taps the fridge door which is covered in takeout flyers. 

“Still,” Steve says. At the bottom of the pantry are five bags of dog food, only one of them opened. “At least the dog isn’t going to starve?”

“He’s your teammate,” Bucky says. “Maybe you should have a talk with him or something. How to take care of yourself, a lecture by Steven Grant Rogers. Actually, on second thought, maybe Coulson should have that talk. You’d be shit at it.”

“Ha ha,” Steve says. 

“I’m going to go change the sheets,” Bucky says, picking up his duffel.

“You’re changing the sheets?” 

“The man apparently doesn’t know how to go to a food store,” Bucky says, “You really think he washes his sheets regularly?” 

Steve shudders. “Yeah. You should change ‘em.”

“Well,” Bucky says, “Thanks for your permission.”

Steve flips him off and goes to investigate the rest of the apartment. 

It doesn’t take long and when he’s done, he orders Thai - they’ll go to the store tomorrow - and then joins Bucky on the couch. He sinks down into the cushion with a sigh, and Bucky laughs and jabs him in the gut.

“What’re you sighing for, old man? All you’ve done is walk around and sit down.”

“Old man?” Steve clucks his tongue. “And to think this morning you were calling me babe. Where’s the romance gone?”

“Aw, sweetheart,” Bucky coos, just to watch Steve’s face scrunch up.

“I’ll sweetheart  _ you _ ,” Steve mutters.

Bucky waggles his eyebrows then quickly reaches out to wrap an arm around Steve’s waist and keep him from huffing and getting off the couch. 

“You can sweetheart me any time you want,” Bucky promises pressing loud, messy kisses on Steve’s face.

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” Steve says, covering Bucky’s face with his hand and turning his face away.

Bucky just licks Steve’s palm.

They’re on the verge of a wrestling match when Lucky jumps off the floor and trots over to the door.

“Did you know he could move that fast?” Bucky asks, watching as Lucky sits at the door and looks over at Steve as if to say  _ come on _ .

Steve shrugs and a moment later there’s a knock on the door.

Bucky’s got a knife in his hand in an instant, and Steve doesn’t know where it came from, and he doesn’t say anything, just pulls out his wallet and goes to the door.

“You’re not Clint,” the sandy haired kid with their Thai food says.

“Friends,” Steve answers. “We’re watching Lucky while Clint’s on vacation.”

“Vacation?” the kids laughs. “He’s probably doing Avenger stuff. He’s famous, you know.”

Bucky laughs in the background.

Steve hands over enough money for their order and a generous tip and takes their food. He shuts the door again before turning to glare at Bucky. “Not helpful.”

“Who’d ever think you’d have a face people would forget?” Bucky asks. “I know I’m never going to forget those baby blues.”

“I’m going to eat all your Pad Thai,” Steve tells him. He sets the bag of food down on the kitchen table.

“Maybe but you won’t touch my Pad Prik Khing.”

Steve wrinkles his nose. He’s never developed a taste for spicy food, but Bucky loves it. Steve takes the Pad Prik Khing out and puts it far away from all the other food.

“You gonna bring dinner over?” Bucky asks.

“You gonna get off your lazy ass?” Steve shoots back. “We’re eating at the table like civilized people.”

Bucky mouths a few things that Steve’s probably better of not trying to lip read. Steve ignores him and sets out their spring and summer rolls. “We just need winter and fall and we’ve got the whole set.”

Bucky snatches a spring roll with his fingers and bites it clean in half. “Ha ha,” he says through a mouthful of chewed food.

“Gross,” Steve says, pushing his face away. 

They sit down at the table, their two appetizers and four main dishes spread out in boxes around them. They demolish the rolls, and Steve’s about to start in on his Vegetable Deluxe when a wet nose nudges his leg.

“Oh,” he says. “Lucky. We should probably feed you, huh.”

He gets up to find a dog bowl, ends up using a person bowl, and fills it with dog food. Too much food is better than not enough, right?

Only, when he looks up, Bucky’s feeding Lucky Pad Thai from the palm of his hand and -

“What are you doing?” Steve demands. “There are peanuts in that!”

“And?” Bucky asks.

“What if he’s allergic?”

“Can dogs even be allergic to peanuts?” Bucky asks. “Also, I don’t think he’d be licking my hand clean if he was allergic.”

Steve scowls and gets his tablet out. A quick Google search tells him that dogs  _ can _ be allergic. “If he starts shitting everywhere or losing his fur then one, you’re cleaning it up and two, you’re telling Clint you killed his dog.”

“He’ll be fine,” Bucky says. “Anyone ever tell you you worry too much?”

**“** Worrying me is your full time job,” Steve says.

They finish eating, and there aren’t any dishes to do - the cartons just go in the trash - and Steve and Bucky find themselves looking at each other.

“Now what?” Steve asks, the first to break. “It’s too soon to go to bed. I should’ve brought a deck of cards or something.”

“Or  _ Lord of the Rings _ ,” Bucky says. “That could’ve lasted us a couple nights.” He’s quiet for a moment. “I  _ did _ change the sheets.”

“And have Clint’s neighbors tell him what we did while he was gone?” Steve asks.

“You’re the one who’s always loud,” Bucky says. “If you could keep quiet then no one would know.”

“How would your ego get through sex without me telling you how good you are at it?” Steve fires back.

“Fair point,” Bucky concedes. “But if you think we’re going a whole week without sex then some parts of your brain didn’t thaw out after the ice.”

“We can sneak back to our apartment,” Steve says. “Or, I guess I could be quiet.”

They both frown a little at this second option, but it’s Bucky who startles when Lucky comes over and nudges his leg. Lucky’s got the TV remote between his teeth and he drops it at Bucky’s feet, an offering, before thumping his tail on the floor.

“Huh,” Bucky says. “Guess the dog wants to watch TV.”

Bucky sits down on the couch and starts fiddling with the TV.

Steve sits on the floor, back against the couch, and snaps his fingers when Lucky tries to get up on the couch with Bucky. The dog hesitates but when he sees that Bucky’s busy and Steve’s just sitting, he sprawls across Steve’s lap, twisting so Steve can rub his belly.

“Aha!” Bucky says, triumphant, as he gets a baseball game on. And then he seems to register that Steve’s on the ground. “The hell are you doing?”

Steve pointedly looks at where he’s rubbing Lucky’s stomach. “Petting the dog?”

“On the floor,” Bucky says like  _ Steve’s _ the stupid one.

“Dogs aren’t allowed on the furniture,” Steve says. He’s never had a dog, but that seems like something he’s heard said about them.

“You’re really going to sit down there?” Bucky asks.

“I don’t want him to be alone,” Steve says.

“What about me?” Bucky pouts.

“Quit that,” Steve says. “You get me all night.”

Bucky doesn’t stop pouting, and it’s not like it’s an effective look, because now that Bucky’s lost the dark circles he had under his eyes after they brought him in he doesn’t quite pull pitiful off. But the fact that he  _ is _ pouting is effective, even if the look isn’t.

“Sit behind me,” Steve says.

“How come I always gotta do the work?” Bucky grumbles but he does shift so he’s sitting on the couch behind Steve, his legs spread so they rest on either side of Steve’s body.

Steve leans so his head rests against Bucky’s knee. “Thanks, Buck.”

“I hate it when you get all sincere on me. Kills my moral high ground.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve says. 

Between the warm weight of the dog on his lap, and the steady reassurance of Bucky next to him, Steve almost falls asleep. It’s a good thing Tony isn’t here, because he’s always giving Steve a hard time about baseball being as boring and American as Steve is. It’s not that tonight’s game is boring, it’s just that Steve’s feeling domestic tonight and that always makes him sleepy.

“Maybe we should get a dog,” Steve mumbles between innings.

Bucky flicks Steve’s ear. “ _ No _ .”

“Okay,” Steve says. 

They get ready for bed when the game’s over, and they’re in the bathroom together, jostling over the single sink, because while they could take turns, this is much more fun. Bucky’s the first to get his toothbrush wet, but Steve’s the first to realize they have a problem.

“Uh, forget to pack something?” Steve asks looking through the toiletry bag for toothpaste. He grins when his search turns up empty.

“Shut up,” Bucky says. “We can just use Clint’s.”

Steve shrugs, because it’s not a big deal and then they get a good look at Clint’s toothpaste.

“Is that,” Bucky begins, frowning at the tube.

Curly red hair, a bow, and Steve knows her - “She’s the princess from  _ Brave _ .”

“He brushes his teeth with  _ princess _ toothpaste?” Bucky demands, incredulous.

“Bucky,” Steve warns but as soon as he starts brushing his teeth with said toothpaste he’s spitting into the sink. “What the fuck?” He grabs the toothpaste bottle. “Artificial strawberry?  _ That _ deserves judgment.”

“Fucking hell,” Bucky says before taking a deep breath and scrubbing his teeth clean. By the time he’s swishing and spitting he looks like he needs to go and murder someone before he can settle down to sleep.

“We’ll buy toothpaste at the food store,” Steve promises, making a face as the taste of the toothpaste lingers. “This stuff is  _ awful _ .”

“Can you fire him from the Avengers for this?”

“ _ You’re  _ the one who didn’t pack our toothpaste. We would’ve been fine. I never would’ve had to know that Clint brushes his teeth with toothpaste for kids.”

“I don’t think I can kiss you,” Bucky says. “I don’t want to associate you with this taste.”

Steve...he can’t really blame Bucky, but going to sleep without a languid goodnight kiss makes him grumpy. It takes him forever to fall asleep, and he wakes up too early, and he’s careful when he gets out of bed so he doesn’t wake Bucky up, but he also scowls when Bucky doesn’t stir. 

Lucky’s waiting for him in the kitchen, and Steve takes him outside to relieve himself and when they come back upstairs, Steve looks around an apartment that isn’t  _ his _ and wonders what he’s supposed to do until Bucky wakes up.

Lucky yawns, showing off pointed teeth and a pink tongue and Steve finds himself saying, “Yeah, it’s too early to be awake.”

The dog goes over to the couch, grabs the throw blanket to his teeth and brings it over to the corner with his dog bed.

“You’re cold?” Steve asks but then Lucky comes over to him and presses his cold nose against the backs of Steve’s knees until Steve moves forward.

“Oh,” Steve says when Lucky stops in front of his bed and nudges the blanket towards Steve. “You think we should nap?”

Lucky answers by curling up in his dog bed.

“Does Clint do this?” Steve asks.

Lucky doesn’t answer.

“I’m up because I’m not tired,” Steve says, even as he goes and gets a pillow.

Maybe Lucky’s lonely. Maybe he’s sad because he woke up and Clint wasn’t here. Steve’s just going to keep him company until Bucky gets up. He’s not even going to close his eyes. He’s just -

“Un-fucking-believable,” Bucky says and Steve startles awake.

Lucky, who’d been using Steve’s chest as a pillow, huffs his disapproval of Steve’s sudden movement.

“Um,” Steve says, rubbing his eyes. There’s actually sun coming through the window above the sink now which means Steve fell asleep.

“I wake up to an empty bed, and you’re cuddling with  _ the dog _ ?” Bucky demands.

“I didn’t mean to?”

Bucky throws his hands up in the air. “You don’t even like dogs.”

“I thought he might be missing Clint,” Steve says. He stands up, because arguing with Bucky needs him firing on all cylinders and letting Bucky tower over him doesn’t lead to much rational thought. 

“You let the dog sleep on you,” Bucky says. “You didn’t let  _ me _ cuddle you.”

“You’re the one who wouldn’t kiss me!” Steve explodes, but he’s careful to keep his voice down, because while his neighbors are used to Steve and Bucky having the occasional shouting match, Clint’s neighbors definitely aren’t. “Figured you didn’t want me anywhere near you.”

“You,” Bucky points a finger at him, and when it starts trembling, too much anger building and no outlet, he takes a deep breath. He settles a little when he exhales, but there’s still that glint in his eye that means he and Steve are probably due for an all-out sparring session soon. “We’re going shopping, and we’re getting new damn toothpaste.”

“Right now?” Steve asks. 

“Yes, right now. Unless you need another few hours of sleep without me.”

“Can we leave Lucky on his own?”

Steve knows it’s the wrong thing to say, knows it’s only going to wind Bucky up more, but he’s genuinely worried about the dog. He doesn’t want Lucky to feel neglected.

“Fine,” Bucky says. “Stay with the stupid dog.”

He grabs his wallet and storms out of the apartment before Steve can talk him down. Lucky whimpers and curls into a ball.

“He didn’t mean it,” Steve tells the dog, sitting down to pet him. “He’s just frustrated.”

Steve’s not the only one who gets grumpy when he doesn’t get his goodnight kiss.

~*~

Bucky comes back with a half-used tube of toothpaste which means he went to their apartment for toothpaste and didn’t go to the store without Steve. Which, at least Bucky didn’t stay in their apartment and mope or wait until Steve asked to him come back, but they still have the problem of no food.

“I’m going to get something for breakfast,” Steve says. 

Bucky grunts in acknowledgment.

“You want anything specific?”

Bucky goes into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

And Bucky says  _ Steve  _ has mood swings.

“Be nice to Lucky while I’m gone!” Steve calls out, because he can be petty, and he tracks down his wallet before going to find the nearest coffee shop. 

He doesn’t bother with coffee, because it has no effect on either of them, but he does get The Baker’s Experience which is thirteen assorted pastries. He mixes it up; bagels, donuts, muffins, croissants, danishes, the whole nine yards and brings his offering back to Clint’s apartment.

“Help yourself,” Steve says, dropping the box on the table. He flips the lid open, and Lucky comes barreling into the kitchen. “Not you,” Steve tells him. “Buck? You still here?”

Bucky comes out of the bedroom in a pair of jeans and light-weight long sleeve shirt instead of his pajamas. “I’m still here. Don’t get your spandex in a bunch.”

He pokes through the box, making more and more interested noises until he sees the bear claw. He makes a humming sort of sound, reaching for it before he looks at Steve, eyes narrowed. “Is this a test?”

“You get first pick,” Steve tells him and goes to find glasses so he can pour them some water.

“Definitely a test,” Bucky says.

Steve sighs. He had been tempted to get 13 bear claws, because they’re Bucky’s favorite, and Steve’s a big fan too, but he’d been trying to show Bucky that he was sorry for fighting with him, that Bucky could have his favorite and Steve would settle for something else, but Bucky’s reading it all wrong and this is probably why you communicate with words instead of pastries.

“It’s for you, Buck,” Steve says.

Bucky pokes at it. “They only have one left?”

“No,” Steve says, jaw set, ready to fight Bucky on the bear claw.

“You fucking martyr,” Bucky says. He picks it up and splits it in two. “Eat your damn half and then kiss me.”

Steve’s happy to oblige, even if he does draw the pastry out, and goes as far as to lick the icing off his fingers when he’s done.

“Tease,” Bucky says, but it’s fond and then he’s kissing Steve, tasting like pastry and a little bit like mint which means he brushed his teeth while Steve was gone, because he wanted to kiss Steve, and maybe they’re going to be alright after all.

If they broke up over Clint’s dog then Steve was  _ definitely _ kicking Clint out of the Avengers. Or maybe just assigning him to the press circuit for a week.

When they stop kissing, Bucky keeps an arm looped around Steve’s waist, keeping him close, as he pokes through the rest of the pastries. “What do you want next?” he asks.

“We’re gonna share all of them?” Steve asks.

“Don’t say I don’t know how to treat you right,” Bucky says, picking up a blueberry muffin, the kind with big grains of sugar on top.

“I bought these,” Steve protests.

Bucky shoves the top of the muffin in Steve’s mouth to shut him up. 

By the time the pastries are done Steve’s stomach is full, and he’s happy, bad mood he woke up with completely gone. This is probably what Tony means when he calls them dangerously codependent - the fact that not kissing each other goodnight makes them both wake up with a hell of an attitude - but Tony’s programmed his AI into every house, vehicle, and suit he owns so he’s not one to throw stones.

Of course, he can’t exactly kiss Jarvis. Maybe that’s why he’s so grumpy these days.

“We should go to the store,” Steve says. “Before lunch.”

“Before we piss each other off again, you mean?” Bucky asks but he’s smiling, and he’s got a hand on Steve’s knee which means they’re good.

“You start sassing me and I’ll leave you home with the dog,” Steve says getting up. “Just let me brush my teeth and we can go.”

“Why can’t we go now?” Bucky asks, following Steve to the bathroom. He slips in front of Steve to block the door.

“Because I need to brush my teeth,” Steve says. He tries to push past Bucky, but Bucky doesn’t budge. “Come on, last night didn’t really count, and I haven’t brushed them this morning. It’ll take like two minutes.”

“Um.” Bucky looks away, embarrassed. “I might have thought you were still going to be mad at me when you came back from breakfast.”

“Uh huh,” Steve says, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“And, uh, I might’ve used your toothbrush to brush the dog’s teeth.”

“I hate you,” Steve says. 

“I didn’t think you were going to go out and do something nice,” Bucky says, like this is somehow  _ Steve’s  _ fault.

Bucky’s relaxed so it doesn’t take much effort for Steve to slip past Bucky and into the bathroom. First things first, he tosses his toothbrush in the trash. And then he plucks Bucky’s from the holder, and he’s just gotten it wet when Bucky snatches it from his hand.

“What’re you doing?” Bucky demands.

“Trying to brush my teeth.”

Steve reaches for the toothbrush, but Bucky holds it out of reach.

“You’re not using my toothbrush. That’s gross.”

Steve fixes Bucky with his most unimpressed look. “Think about where I’ve put my mouth on you in this past week alone and tell me again sharing a toothbrush is gross.”

“That’s different,” Bucky says, but it’s a weak protest.

“You shouldn’t’ve have brushed the dog’s teeth with my toothbrush then,” Steve says.

He holds his hand out, expectant, and a moment later, Bucky slaps it into Steve’s hand.

“I’m buying a new one at the store,” Bucky grumbles. “For both of us.”

“Whatever you want,  _ babe _ ,” Steve says.

“Fucking asshole,” Bucky mutters and then he leaves the bathroom like he can’t handle watching Steve brush his teeth with Bucky’s toothbrush.

~*~

All joking aside, Steve does spend a good ten minutes worrying about leaving Lucky alone by himself in the apartment. Bucky convinced Steve that they  _ had _ to go to the store, and they’d make a quick trip, and the dog would be fine.

“Maybe that’s why Clint doesn’t have any groceries,” Steve says as they walk to the nearest store. “Maybe he can’t leave Lucky on his own.”

“Clint doesn’t have any groceries, because he’d burn his apartment building down if he tried to cook something,” Bucky says. “And the dog will be fine. We’re not going to gone for long.”

“We should be extra nice to him when we get home,” Steve decides.

“You’re not cuddling with the dog again,” Bucky growls and - Steve didn’t mean to upset Bucky this morning. He accidentally fell asleep next to Lucky. That’s it.

“Then  _ you _ can give him belly rubs,” Steve says. 

“We need to dirty up your reputation,” Bucky decides. “No more teammates asking us for favors. Unless Nat needs someone to watch her cactus. That’s my level of caretaking.”

“You take care of me pretty good,” Steve says.

“Damn right I do.” 

They don’t hold hands or kiss or do anything overly romantic in public, but Bucky does let his hand brush Steve’s for a moment, and Steve looks over to smile at him, message received.

They make quick work of the store, loading up a cart with food before taking a detour down the dental hygiene aisle. 

“Oooh,” Bucky says, holding up a toothbrush with a cartoon Captain America face on it. “For any time I want Steve Rogers in my mouth.”

Steve cuts him a look. “If you ever want Steve Rogers in your mouth again, you won’t buy that.”

Bucky sighs, like this is some sort of great imposition, and picks up a two pack of boring white toothbrushes - one with green stripes, the other with blue.

“Huh,” Steve says, wandering further down to where the toothpaste is. “I think we should get Clint a present.”

“We’re doing him a favor,” Bucky says, “That means  _ he _ buys  _ us _ presents.”

Steve holds up a tube of kids’ toothpaste with Angry Birds characters on it.

Bucky grins, delighted. “Nevermind. We’re getting it. Please tell me it’s a horrid flavor.”

“Bubblegum,” Steve says.

“Perfect.”

~*~

When they get back from the store, they take Lucky for a short walk and then start making lunch.

“I should take him for a run tomorrow,” Steve says with a nod towards the dog. “Dogs like running, right?”

“Sure,” Bucky says, not looking up from the pot of spaghetti he’s stirring. “Should we make some meatballs for the dog?”

“Dogs don’t eat meatballs.”

“They do in  _ Lady and the Tramp _ ,” Bucky says.

Steve looks over and glares at him. “That’s an animated movie. Besides, Clint has all that dog food.”

“That’s all unopened,” Bucky says. “Besides, think about Clint Barton. Does he seem like the kind of owner that feeds his dog shitty dried food or people food?”

Steve looks over at the pantry door and then at the bag of frozen meatballs in his hands. “I could text him?”

Bucky laughs. “Yeah, text him on his SHIELD sanctioned mission to find out whether or not you should give his  _ dog _ meatballs. Coulson’ll love that one.”

Steve huffs and goes into the fridge to get the pasta sauce. While he’s getting it, Lucky noses his way into the fridge and gets his teeth around the pizza box before dragging it out.

“Hey,” Steve says. “What’re you doing?”

Lucky looks from the box which he could get out of the fridge but not open and then at Steve, eyes wide and pleading.

“No,” Steve says. He looks over at Bucky.

Bucky laughs again and holds up his hands. “You know I can never say no to you when you give me that look. About time you get a taste of your own medicine.”

“I thought I wasn’t allowed to compare myself to a dog,” Steve says.

“ _ You’re _ not. I am.”

Steve rolls his eyes and gets the sauce and meatballs in a saucepan and on the stove. When he turns back around, Lucky’s still sitting next to his pizza box.

“It’s only crusts in there,” Steve says.

Lucky barks, excited.

“Weird dog,” Bucky says.

Steve doesn’t even bother glaring, just opens the box. Lucky’s tail thumps on the floor, excited, and he nudges Steve’s hand towards the pizza crust.

“I’m supposed to feed you?” Steve asks.

Lucky’s tail thumps again.

“Weird dog indeed,” Steve says and pulls the first pizza crust out.

~*~

The next day, Steve takes Lucky for a run. He offers to bring Bucky with them, but Bucky just laughs and says he’s got better things to do so Steve clips Lucky’s leash to his collar and brings the dog outside. 

It’s a beautiful day outside, a bit of morning chill in the air that’ll burn off as soon as the sun gets a little higher, and Steve wonders if maybe they should take Lucky to the park or something. Any dog of Clint’s must know how to fetch - though probably arrows and not a ball - but maybe it would be fun.

Steve can pick up a frisbee or something at the store, and he and Bucky can spend a lazy day relaxing in the sun and playing with Clint’s dog. Of course, there’s not really any such thing as relaxing when Bucky’s involved and it’ll be just Steve’s luck that Bucky will decide to play tackle football with a dog and they’ll end up having to go to the vet.

So no to the park. Well, no to playing fetch in the park. They could still go for a walk. Unless a walk and a run in the same day will be too much for Lucky.

Steve doesn’t want to push Lucky too much so he picked a slower pace for his run, but running slow means more mileage, and it’s not until he’s an hour in that he realizes Lucky’s started running a bit behind him instead of in front of him like he had been at the beginning.

“Oh,” Steve says, immediately stopping. “I’m sorry. You probably don’t get out much, do you?”

Lucky whines, looking at Steve like he’s been betrayed. He’s panting, tongue lolling out, and Steve’s hit with a sharp wave of guilt.

“I’m so sorry,” Steve says. “I -” He scoops Lucky up into his arms. “I’ll carry you home, okay? And we’ll relax the rest of the day.”

Lucky puts his head on Steve’s shoulder, and Steve hopes he’s been forgiven even though he doesn’t deserve it. Of course a dog can’t keep up with a super soldier. Steve should’ve thought of that, shouldn’t have been selfish putting his workout before Lucky’s needs.

“We’re getting pizza for lunch,” Steve announces when he gets back to the apartment. “Order something.”

“Oh?” Bucky asks. “Since when am I your -” he pauses when he sees Steve carrying the dog. “What the fuck did you do?”

“Might have slightly overestimated his endurance,” Steve says. He’s pretty sure Lucky fell asleep on the walk back, and Steve  _ definitely _ has drool soaking through his shirt. “Pizza? Please?”

“Only because you said please,” Bucky says, trying to act all gruff, but he looks concerned.

Steve’s pretty sure it’s because Steve’s worried and not because Bucky’s all too worried about the dog, but Bucky’s trying. 

Steve puts Lucky down carefully on the couch and goes to take a quick shower. When he comes back out, Bucky’s looking at the sleeping dog with amusement.

“What?” Steve asks, feeling defensive.

“All of a sudden dogs are allowed on the furniture?” Bucky asks.

“Shut up,” Steve says. “He had a hard day.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Bucky says.

Bucky’s opinion doesn’t change when the pizza arrives and Steve cuts all the crusts off and then proceeds to sit with Lucky on the couch and hand feed him the pieces when he wakes up.

“Unbelievable,” Bucky mutters, but he gets a bowl of water for Lucky and joins them on the couch. He flips on the TV. “What should we watch?”

Lucky lifts his head off Steve’s lap long enough to look at the TV.

“Something Lucky’ll like,” Steve says. “Check the DVR. I bet Clint’s recorded something for him.”

Bucky looks like he can’t believe this is his life before he obligingly presses the DVR button. Thirty episodes of Dog Cops pops up. Bucky shakes his head but picks one at random.

“I’m an assassin,” he mutters, stretching his metal arm across the top of the couch.

Steve leans against Bucky’s chest, careful not to jostle Lucky. “ _ Were _ an assassin. Now you’re an Avenger.”

“You’re going to spoil the dog,” Bucky says, but he curls his arm so it’s wrapped around Steve’s shoulder. 

“He had a bad day. And it was my fault. I just want to make it up to him.”

Bucky sighs but he doesn’t say anything else. And he only complains a little bit when Steve and Lucky both fall asleep.

~*~

~*~

By the end of the week, they have managed not to kill the dog which Bucky thinks they should get a medal or something for. Steve makes notes like ‘Lucky eats both pizza and pizza crust’ and ‘Lucky prefers Pad Thai to dog food’ and ‘Lucky prefers dog food to Indian (only time he ate dog food)’ and ‘don’t take Lucky for runs longer than 20 minutes at a moderate pace’ and when Bucky finds them he rips the notes to pieces.

“We’re not doing this again,” he says, throwing the bits of paper in the trash. “You don’t need to remember this shit.”

“Clint’s going to go on more missions,” Steve says.

Sure, it hasn’t been the easiest week, but they didn’t really have a whole lot of panic moments aside from the Pad Thai and the run that was too long and the pizza crust and -

Okay, maybe Bucky has a point. Maybe they’re not cut out for dog sitting. But, just because something’s hard doesn’t mean they shouldn’t do it. Steve’s done plenty of unpleasant things in his life because it’ll make life easier for someone else. And watching Lucky wasn’t  _ bad _ , it was just a little stressful. And they’ve learned from this experience. They could totally dog sit again. And they’d be better at it. They’d -

“No,” Bucky says. “No more dog sitting. Besides, why would Barton ask us to do it again? He’s going to come back from this mission and -”

Bucky stops talking when they hear the door open. Clint stumbles through, a butterfly bandage on his forehead, and what looks like eight band-aids side by side on his arm, like wherever he was didn’t have a proper med kit. Knowing what Steve knows about Clint now, he should probably be relieved that the band-aids don’t have Disney characters on them or something.

Clint’s got a bit of a limp, and he looks exhausted, but his face lights up when Lucky almost bowls him over in his excitement to see Clint.

“Hey boy,” Clint says, crouching next to his dog and scratching between his ears. “Miss me?”

Lucky licks a long wet stripe up the side of Clint’s face, and Clint laughs before giving him a pat and standing up. He ambles over to the fridge and looks surprised to see actual food in there.

“We decided not to live on takeout,” Steve says, and Clint jumps about three feet.

“Holy shit,” Clint says. “How long have you been here?”

Bucky rolls his eyes as if to say  _ how is this guy a superhero _ .

Steve goes for the more diplomatic, “We stayed the whole week. To watch Lucky.”

“You -” Clint opens and closes his mouth, “You  _ stayed _ ? I just wanted to make sure Lucky didn’t starve or anything. Wow, you guys are the best. I totally know who I’m calling next time I’m out of town.”

He turns back to the fridge which means Steve can clap a hand over Bucky’s mouth before he says something rude. By the time Clint’s pulling the leftover pizza out of the fridge, Steve feels it’s safe to drop his hand.

Bucky glowers but doesn’t say anything.

“Oh, nice,” Clint says, “Garlic crust. Special treat for you, Lucky.”

The dog bounds over to the couch and jumps onto the cushion and sits, pretty as you please, waiting for Clint to come over and feed him.

“Guess we didn’t spoil him,” Bucky mutters as Clint starts cooing at Lucky and hand feeding him pizza crust. 

“Do you think he felt neglected?” Steve whispers, guilt building, because Clint clearly loves his dog, and Steve could’ve done more, could’ve -

“No,” Bucky says, firm, unyielding. “Clint thought we were just going to pop over, dump some food in a bowl and leave. “We went above and beyond. Does this mean we could’ve been sleeping in our own bed all week?”

“I didn’t realize you were so attached to our bed,” Steve says, going back to Clint’s room to pack up their bags.

“Well, since you refused to have sex in Clint’s bed, yeah, a little bit attached.”

“It would’ve been weird,” Steve says, and do they really need to rehash this?

Bucky clearly decides no. “I’m going to go pack up the bathroom.”

“Don’t forget our toothpaste,” Steve calls over his shoulder.

“Fuck you, Rogers!”

~*~

Strangely enough, when they get back to their apartment, all Steve wants to do is collapse on their bed and take a really long nap.

“That whole dog sitting thing took a lot out of me,” Steve says.

His duffel is on the floor to deal with later, but it’s pushed up against the wall so Bucky doesn’t trip over it. Bucky’s the one who doesn’t like mess, who glares at Steve until his sketchbooks are in a drawer and his jackets are hanging up in the closet, and Steve tries to be good at tidying things up (unless he’s trying to get a rise out of Bucky) but today he’s too tired. If Bucky’s bothered by the mess then he can clean it himself.

“It was a long week,” Bucky agrees. “I almost strangled a dog for cuddling with you.”

“You didn’t almost strangle it.”

Bucky, in the doorway to their room, raises his eyebrows. “I don’t tell you everything that goes through my head.”

Steve sighs and toes his shoes off. It’s bad for the shoe that he doesn’t untie them first, but it seems like too much effort to sit up and take them off proper. They make little thumps when they hit the floor.

“I almost punched you for brushing Lucky’s teeth with my toothbrush,” Steve says, willing to play this game.

“You seemed very invested in the dog’s well being,” Bucky says. “I thought you’d appreciate the sacrifice.”

“I thought we almost killed Lucky about eight times,” Steve continues, “With the Pad Thai and then the meatballs and the pizza and -”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky says. “You almost cried after almost running that dog into an early grave.”

Steve glares. “It was a mistake! And I fixed it.”

“By spoiling it rotten. You know what this has taught me?” Bucky asks.

Steve stretches his arms up over his head, his shirt pulling up with the movement, and Steve smiles as Bucky’s eyes zero in on the bit of exposed skin.

“What’d you learn?” Steve prompts when Bucky gets distracted. “That you’re more of a cat person?”

“That I’m so glad we can’t have kids,” Bucky says. “We’d be disasters as parents.”

Steve lowers his arms, a serious expression on his face. “Buck,” he says.

Bucky’s eyes immediately snap up to Steve’s face, registering the change in tone.

“There’s something I never told you about the serum,” Steve says.

Bucky’s eyes trail down, back towards Steve’s stomach, and there’s horror growing on his face, and -

Steve breaks, cracks up laughing, and he only has a moment to enjoy a joke well played when Bucky shouts, “I’m going to kill you, Steve Rogers!” and grabs his ankles and yanks him from the bed.

Steve twists as he’s being pulled so he lands on his hands instead of his head, but there’s still a good thump as he hits the floor, and Bucky’s on him in an instant.

“You fucker,” Bucky says, fingers digging into Steve’s sides, tickling him mercilessly. “I actually  _ believed  _ you. Gonna give you something to laugh about, you punk.”

“Ah!” Steve says, trying to wriggle away from Bucky’s fingers, but he can’t, and he hates how he’s laughing and how his body’s clenching up without his permission, but he also loves that Bucky knows exactly what makes him tick, that Bucky knows him so well he can make Steve laugh even when Steve doesn’t want to and -

There’s a loud knocking from just underneath Steve.

Looks like downstairs neighbor isn’t happy they’re back.

“Better invest in some earplugs, buddy,” Bucky shouts at the floor, “Cause we’ve been gone for a week, and I’m about to fuck my boyfriend!”

Steve claps his hand over his mouth to cover his giggles, and there’s a long, drawn out moment of silence before downstairs neighbor pounds twice on the ceiling and then presumably goes somewhere else.

Bucky’s still straddling Steve, but he’s not tickling him anymore, hands resting on Steve’s bare skin from where his shirt’s rucked up. Steve can still feel the phantom press of Bucky’s fingers from where he dug in when he was tickling Steve, but it’s quickly being replaced by the warm feeling spreading through Steve’s body, the warm feeling that originates where Bucky’s hands are, where his knees press tight against Steve’s sides.

“So,” Steve says, and Bucky looks down at him, long hair falling in his face, and Bucky tucks it back, impatient, like he doesn’t want anything to obstruct his view of Steve. “You talked a big game just now.”

“Aw, sweetheart,” Bucky says. “You miss me?”

“You barely even kissed me this week,” Steve huffs.

“Didn’t want to start anything you wouldn’t let me finish,” Bucky reminds him.

And - no. Steve’s not going to fight with Bucky about why they didn’t have sex for the past week. Not when they could be having sex  _ right now _ .

“Now that you’ve dragged me out of bed like a caveman, you gonna toss me back in it?” Steve asks.

“Mouthy little shit,” Bucky says, but he does scoop Steve up, arm under his shoulders, another under his knees, and he tosses him on the bed.

“But you love me,” Steve says, sitting up long enough to pull his shirt over his head.

“Yeah,” Bucky says, no pet names this time, nothing but his hand on Steve’s cheek. “I definitely do.”

~*~


End file.
